Metamorphosis
by ObsessiveOtakuChick
Summary: Nero makes a rookie mistake, that leads to the return of Nelo Angelo. But will Dante be the one to pay? D/V. Spoilers for DMC 1-4 and Enzo!
1. A Rookie Mistake

**Okay, I'll come right out and say this: I Hate Nero. I do resent him for taking over Dante's position and semi-replacing Vergil, who, IMHO, are two of the most bad ass and awesome characters ever. I also resent that many good Dante/Vergil authors have now started writing Dante/Nero.**

**But, I am not quite so shallow. I also hate him for his whiny girlfriend and his weak fighting style. I hate him for his annoying temperament of trying to be cool and the fact that his voice is the same as Ichigo's in the dub, who is cool. I also hate him for his weak sentimentality.**

**However, I also accept him as now a part of the game, and I will not write fanfics that go: "And then Vergil waltzed through the door, stabbed Nero and the chest and sashayed out the door with Dante who called him the whiny bitch he was" No matter how much I want to. I consider writing things like that as bad as publishing a bad Mary Sue fic. Yes people, I know we all have our fantasies, but let's keep them on our own hard drives and not clog up the internet, eh? **

**Why? Because I consider myself an author. **

**So I will do my best to keep Nero in character, and not pick on him too much, but I'm warning all the Nero fans out there now, this story is not exactly kind to him. **

**And to all the Dante/Vergil fans out there, I repeat, I cannot simply toss him out of the picture for our two lovebirds, but keep the happy thought: This story is D/V. Not D/N. …Just a slightly more Canon D/V.**

**And now that we have finished with OOC's trademark Insanely-Long-Author's-Note/Rant, on with the story!**

* * *

"Whoo-hoo-hoo!!" Nero crowed, as Blue Rose tore into another demon piercing his heart and reducing him to a pile of ash. Swinging around, he surveyed the room.

There didn't seem to be any more signs of movement…what an easy job.

A loud rumble broke the settling silence, and Nero jumped, pulling Yamato from his side, before relaxing. It was only the clunky old air conditioner, struggling to life amongst the carnage.

"Man, that was no fun," he complained to the old machine, kicking it before sighing and taking a seat on top. "What a joke…ah well, at least it pays good money."

He leaned back against the wall, surveying his handiwork.

He was in a shabby old Italian restaurant. The kind where you couldn't decide which was greasier, the ravioli, or the owners who overcharged you for it. At least it meant they could afford to have him trim a little fat off them, business wasn't as easy as he'd thought it'd be.

Dante still got all the work, his reputation kept all the business coming to his table, with Nero begging for scraps.

He growled. The only reason he'd gotten THIS job was because Dante had been too drunk from the profits of last night's job, which had happened to pay triple what this one did, to bother with what he called, "Small Fries". He'd proceeded to roll over in bed and tell Nero to handle it before passing out again.

Nero fumed. If he didn't need the money so badly...

He cast his eyes down at the sword in his hands, and smiled slightly.

No matter how much Dante played it off like he didn't care, Nero could tell it still irked him that he had control over Yamato's full potential.

Holding up the brilliant katana to admire it, his smirk widened. He'd found the easiest way to annoy the older Devil Hunter was to flaunt the sword and intentionally appear to have little regard for it. Twirling it around like a basketball on his finger with perfect balance, he laughed at the memory of Dante's face the first time he'd done that in front of him.

Beneath him, his seat gave another great clunk, and the slight jar was just enough to send Yamato tumbling from it's precarious perch. Instinctively, Nero grabbed for it, barely managing to grab the razor sharp blade in his devil hand before it slid to the ground with a clatter, the devil steel singing against the hard floor.

Nero watched the sword slip from his grasp the few feet to the ground wordlessly, and simply stared for a few seconds until the ringing from the metal had faded. He listened awestruck to the beautiful haunting sound, before a warm, wet feeling drew his attention to his boot.

Staring blankly at the puddle of blood pooling around his feet, he wondered where it came from, until he noticed the small slash Yamato's blade had left in his demon palm. It was bleeding an inordinate amount, and he vaguely wondered if he should try to stop it until he noticed something else about his arm.

The usual visible blue glow was now pulsating rapidly, each beat urging more and more of what now seemed like an impossible amount of blood from the cut.

Nero stared at his throbbing arm. This wa impossible. For that kind of blood loss...he should be dead, or at the very least unconcious.

A strange warm and tingly sensation, that felt oddly unpleasant though for the life of him he couldn't pinpoint why, washed over him, and he glanced up from his wound to see...

That the hardened shell that covered his arm had suddenly gone softer, almost liquid in consistence, and was now moving with the pulsating, urging force beneath his skin. And it was growing.

The shell was stretching, expanding itself to to cover the little bit of his arm and shoulder still human and wrapping around his back.

Suddenly, as if his paralysis had been broken, Nero began to panic. Clawing at his clothing and back, he desperately tried to stop the procession of the change, although something inside himself prevented him from actually touching the 'infected' areas. When it was obvious that he couldn't stop this unknown force, he stopped struggling, and screamed.

The sound turned into an inhuman wail that terrified Nero even as he emitted it. The Demon Material continued to spread, finally covering his head, and he succumbed to the darkness.

Nero was gone. A monster stood in his place.

Nelo Angelo was back.

* * *

**Read and Review please!! No, Nero's not dead yet...Though he might wish he was in a few chapters though, poor boy. Dante Next Chapter!!**


	2. A New Job, An Old Foe

Dante woke up on the floor of his office, next to his couch, with one hell of a hangover.

That in itself wasn't unusual.

What was unusual was that he had only been on said couch for a few hours, since the kid had finally gone off to deal with one of the boring jobs and left him in peace once more, and he was already being woken by a heavy pounding on his office door.

Groaning he ran through the possibilities of who the hell it could be at this un-Godly hour of…8 P.M… Let's see, Trish would have burst through the door with her motorcycle, Lady with her Cannon, the Kid with his sword…pulling himself to his feet he perked up. Maybe the pizza boy or the hookers had gotten so used to his frequent orders that they started delivering before he actually had gotten around to ordering.

Stretching a little and working the kink out of his neck from landing on the floor, Dante pulled open the door.

"You're not carrying a pizza box, and if you've turned to prostitution I feel bad for the standards of the people in this city."

"What? Man, is that any kind of greeting for the guy who's pulled you out of the red so many times you can't even count them?" Enzo ducked under Dante's arm, getting inside before he could slam the door in his face.

Dante turned around, closing the door.

"I do too know how to count! And I find it offensive you don't think I can. Is that any way to treat the guy who's saved your ass more times than even you can get it into trouble?"

Enzo glared. "Yeah, so you had to make new trouble to drag me into."

Dante shrugged, plopping back down on the couch, "Hey, you just bring me the work. You want your cut; you hang around…that's your problem."

"By the way, did you deal with that incident down at my cousin's place?

Dante yawned and folded his arms behind his head, "I got the intern to handle it."

"You sent that kid? Come on it's my cousin for Christ's sake!"

Dante opened one eye suspiciously. "I thought you told me your cousin was a sleazy scumbag who wasn't good for anything but mooching off of your profits, and therefore, my profits."

Enzo shuffled a bit, "Well, yeah, but you know…"

Dante closed his eye again. "Losing interest here Enzo, you got a job or what?"

Enzo pretended to pout. It was not a good look for the short, stout greasy Italian. "Can't a guy just pop by to say hello to an old friend?"

"Not if that guy is a spineless boozehead only interested in money."

Enzo threw up his hands. "Fine, fine, you got me, but you're not gonna be disappointed this time, I got it first thing, barely been on the market an hour, top price too when they heard it was you. You know, you really don't apprecia.."

"Enzo!"

"Fine, Fine, here's the file!" Enzo pulled a manila envelope out from under his jacket, tossing it on Dante's chest. He then proceeded to wander around the shop, staring at various trophy heads on the walls, and accidentally stepping in an old pizza box.

"Eww! Man, you really should clean up! That's just nasty! How old is this cheese? A month?"

Dante wasn't listening. He was too busy staring at the photo and physical description in the file. There was no doubt about who it could be.

"Enzo!"

"Yeah man? You don't have to shout, I'm ri…"

"You said this got on the market an hour ago?"

"Yep. Some dude said this thing was terrorizing the strip. 'S not too far from here actually, kinda scared m…"

"I'll take the job." Dante started moving about the room, grabbing his jacket and Rebellion.

"Jesus, do you have to keep interrupting me? It's not very polite!"

"And you owe me a pizza," Dante called as he practically flew out the door. "You're standing in my dinner."

And with that he was gone, leaving Enzo standing alone, mouth hanging open and foot smelling faintly of feted cheese.

"What the hell was that?"

* * *

Dante arrived at the last known location of the target, and almost immediately caught sight of him.

Nelo Angelo jumped down from the roof where he had been waiting, and stood facing Dante in the street, almost reminiscent of a bad spaghetti western.

Pulling Rebellion from his back, Dante smiled grimly. "Hello bro. Long time no see."

* * *

**I love Enzo. He's in both novels, the Anime and the Manga…Why not the games? Every one loves a greasy Italian middleman!...Okay, that didn't sound quite right…**


	3. A Confusing Opponent

A sly grin slid across Dante's face as he spoke. Oh yeah…It had definitely been too long since he had had a good fight. Sure the kid had somehow managed to beat him…but he didn't really count that. Vergil had double teamed him, and he'd made the fatal mistake of underestimating his opponent.

He didn't wait for a response to his remark. Nelo Angelo wasn't, hell, Vergil wasn't, much of a talker, especially in the witty banter category. Pulling Rebellion from his back Dante reverted into fight mode, pushing all his questions and thoughts to the back of his head. Mercenary Philosophy 101: Complete the mission first, figure out what the hell the mission meant later. Or in this case, how the Hell Nelo Angelo got OUT of Hell, and into Little Italy.

But all those noble intentions of a good clean fight vanished when Nelo Angelo drew his sword. All anticipatory adrenaline rushes were suddenly replaced in a cold sweat, and all thoughts of fun were suddenly replaced by only one: 'Where the Hell did he get Yamato?!'

Because that certainly had to be Yamato. Dante could never mistake the intricate blue handled katana. Besides, what were the odds that another Devil Arm sword could randomly pop up that looked exactly like Yamato, and make its way into Nelo Angelo's hands?

He had to admit, one its own the demon should have looked pretty ridiculous with his enormously oversized demon body desperately trying to handle the delicate weapon, but he handled it with a grace and finesse that only a master of the blade could have. Looking at the scene in front of him, Dante was forced to confront the realization that this Demon looked less and less like Nelo Angelo, and more and more like his brother.

Dante was a firm believer in the idea that people could change. Now not just anybody, if he loaned money or did a job on credit of every street rat in the county who came to him claiming to be reborn he'd have died hungry in a gutter long ago. But his life had provided him with quite a few good examples of the capacity for change in not just the human heart, but the demon one too.

His father was the obvious example, even though, to be fair, Sparda had joined the human side more for lure of a challenging fight than true moral belief that humans should be free, but Dante believed that after a few hundred years, by the time he met Eva, that he had changed for the better. Eva hadn't hurt either.

Take Lady, she had changed her belief that all demons were pure evil, 'With a little help and a lot of charm from yours truly,' Dante would often tease, whenever she got too righteous. And Trish, she too had followed what was becoming the noble demon tradition of giving Mundus the finger and helping the humans. Metaphorically, or course…except in Dante's case.

But the biggest example of change of heart in Dante's life had to be Vergil. After his disappearance and presumed demise the first time, (Dante really needed to stop doing that, he was a Sparda after all,) right after their father's death, Vergil had returned…changed. And not for the better. Dante had no idea where his big brother's thirst for knowledge and to be the best at all he did had turned into his all consuming lust for power. But Dante had still accepted him as his brother, his twin.

Nelo Angelo however, was not. Yes, people could change, and twenty years of torture and brain-washing didn't hurt either. Nelo Angelo was coarser, more animalistic, lacking any of the cultured finesse that Dante related with his brother. It was probably the reason he hadn't recognized him in the first place. Nelo Angelo was not Vergil, not even a shell of him or his darker side unleashed; Nelo Angelo was a Monster, through and through.

Staring at the creature in front of him, Dante saw none of the raw brutality he associated with Nelo Angelo, the air about him and the way he handled his sword most definitely were those of his Brother…

That thought, and the realization that Nel-…Vergil was not where he had been staring brought the Devil Hunter out of his momentary daze, and jerked him back into the reality of the fight.

Feeling what he knew to be an invisible shadow behind him, he instinctively spun and parried, just narrowly blocking the attack that had come by a fraction of a second.

Relaxing into the fight, Dante realized something else disconcerting about his opponent. The attacks he was blocking were most definitely patterned and calculated, very unlike the raw, unpredictability of Nelo Angelo's attacks. Not only did this thing act like Vergil, it fought like him too. Well, in some ways that made things easier. Vergil was such a strategizing and calculating opponent, Dante had a pretty good idea of what he would do. His brother was a strong advocate of the 'Fight Smart, Not Hard,' idea.

Somewhat more easily dodging another slash from Yamato, Dante once more returned to his original question, i.e. How the Hell Does Vergil Have Yamato…when…Nero…

Between lightning fast attacks and counterattacks, Dante attempted to take in his surroundings. He was in Little Italy…Wasn't that where the kid was earlier? There were so many bad Italian restaurants along this street it was hard to tell which one was Enzo's Cousins'. Returning his attention to his opponent, he noticed several discrepancies in his appearance.

He had no amulet around his neck, and though Nelo Angelo had been repelled by the charm, he was positive Vergil would never go without his, and he was becoming more convinced by the second that his opponent was the latter, rather than the former. Instead of the ominous red glow he remembered seeing in Nelo Angelo's gaze, these eyes were blue, cold and piercing…In fact his entire body seemed to give off a radiating blue heatless light, particularly his right arm…

Dante felt like kicking himself. It was so freaking obvious. The location, the sudden appearance without any other demons or reason, the possession of Yamato, the pulsing blue Devil Arm…

Then again maybe it wasn't, if he told this story to Trish or Lady, their first response probably wouldn't be: "Well duh moron, it's your dead brother in full on demon form who's somehow infested Nero to make him 'Nero Angelo 2.0'

Yeah, probably not.

In his shock of realization, Dante had froze for a second too long, and he suddenly was aware that in about .2 seconds he was going to be in two halves due to the slash headed directly for his torso. He ducked under the strike just in time, instinctively throwing up Rebellion in a counter strike as he brushed past the vulnerable midsection.

Pulling away, Dante recognized that he had drawn first blood, and apparently his opponent, whom he had silently dubbed 'Nero Angelo' although he'd never tell that to anyone, had realized it too. He had fallen to his knees, grasping his side, shrieking with an unearthly wail.

But it was more than that. As Dante watched from a safe distance, the creature began writhing. No, it wasn't writhing, he realized, it's skin had gone all gloppy and soft, and it seemed to be moving, shrinking to reveal the smaller, paler figure it had covered.

The horrid Metamorphosis ended, and Nero collapsed unconscious in the street, Yamato clattering uselessly to the ground next to him.

* * *

**Two things, since I've been trying to cut back on Author's Notes: Yes, I know Vergil is a much more difficult opponent than Nelo Angelo FOR THE PLAYER. Dante spent years sparring with him when they were teenagers, so he probably is pretty used to Vergil's fighting style. That's why the battle scenes in DMC3 are so EPIC. :D**

**And Two, No Yaoi yet. Yaoi comes in about…two…three chapters? And gets increasingly graphic from there on, for all of your getting bored with the smexless plot. Oh, and Vergil be pretty again soon, 'cuz even though Nelo Angelo's Awesome, we loveses our Vergie!!**

**Shame on you peeps!! Faving and Alerting without Reviewing!! I know who you is!! Review or Nero Angelo 2.0 will come and do away with you!!**


	4. What the fuck happened?

Dante burst through the door to his shop, an unconscious Nero in his arms. He ignored the stares he had gotten while walking, half running up the street, the boy flopping slightly.

Whatever.

If his 'Neighbors' hadn't gotten used to him to the point where a little thing like that still made them uneasy, well, let's face it, they probably never would. Besides, they weren't exactly angels themselves, this part of town had a strict 'Hear no evil, See no evil, Speak no evil,' policy, although most of them just called it 'Keep your fucking mouth shut if you know what's good for you,' or common sense.

Carrying the limp form through his shop back to the other lesser used rooms, Dante frowned.

His bed was covered with empty pizza boxes, beer bottles, strawberry sundae dishes and other random trophies he hadn't gotten around to storing yet. The whole mess was covered by a not-so-fine layer of dust that blanketed the whole room.

Following his philosophy of fixing things, clean-up and pretty much everything else, Dante opted for the easy way out. Grabbing the top sheet of the bed, he pulled the blanket, contents and all onto the floor.

The resulting crash as sundae dishes and beer bottles smashed, along with the cloud of dust that floated into the air was enough to raise the dead, but as Dante gently laid the teen on the bed, he didn't move, although he noticed his face was contorted into a restless expression. Suddenly feeling restless himself, Dante turned and paced out of the room back to the shop.

Wandering aimlessly he started half-mindedly kicking and in the process destroying random pieces of his sparse furniture and the plastered walls.

All of the questions he had somehow managed to push out of his mind were back, buzzing more furiously than ever.

Noticing a box on his desk, he stormed over, ripping a note off of it and quickly scanning the messy handwriting.

_ Here's your pizza you ungrateful slob. Nice job, you know where to find me if you want another one. E._

Dante snorted as he read the note. Somehow, somewhere, he'd lost his appetite.

* * *

Oh God, his head hurt…Where was he? Why was it so dark? Why couldn't he open his eyes?

Upon that realization Nero began to hyperventilate slightly. He couldn't move any part of his body!

Before he could completely give himself over to panic, he heard something that made him stop, forcing himself to still the onset of terror and pay attention.

It was a voice.

But it wasn't a human voice, or even that of a demon. This voice was deep and rasping, and in a flash of fear, Nero realized it was the same voice that he had cried out in when…wait…what had happened? Even as he listened the voice seemed to fluctuate, flickering back and forth between a different voice that seemed more human.

But this new voice was not better.

It was cold and calculating, and it seemed to pierce through Nero's cold sweat to make his heart stop momentarily.

A few seconds, (although to him it could have been hours), later he realized he should probably be listening to what the voice was saying.

"…_re you? Who are you?"_

Nero choked, struggling to get control of his motorary functions, "N-Nero."

The voice did not seem satisfied with his answer. He could almost feel it bristle as it repeated its question in an even colder tone.

"_Who are you?"_

"A-A Devil H-Hunter," he managed to spit out. He still couldn't open his eyes or move any of his limbs, and he had a feeling that the only reason he could speak at all was because this _Thing _was allowing him to.

"_What is your relation to Sparda?"_

"S-Sparda?" Nero asked, gaining a better hold on his voice. "Why should I tell you?"

No sooner had he spoken the words than he realized that that had been an extremely stupid thing to do. The epiphany was immediately reinforced by the strong feeling of anger that washed over him, followed closely by one of pain that wracked his body.

"_What is your relation to Sparda?"_

"I-I don't have one!" Nero screamed in his head, no longer able to use the extreme amount of concentration and willpower it took to speak, "I'm just a human!"

The pain stopped instantly.

"_I see,"_ the voice said, but it seemed more satisfied than it had the previous times it had spoken. _"Good. I was worried. Then you are nothing but a vessel."_

And then the voice was gone, and Nero was suddenly aware that he could move.

He opened his eyes and immediately bolted off the bed. He heard a crunch and looked down to see that he was standing of what looked like a mess of torn bed sheets and broken glass, he didn't have time to ponder this however because the next second Dante burst in through the open door.

Nero started to say something, he wasn't quite sure what, but he stopped when he noticed what Dante was doing.

He was staying several feet back, holding a sword. No, not holding, pointing. Pointing at Nero, to be exact. Pointing _Yamato _at Nero, to be exact. Before Nero could ask why Dante had his sword and was pointing it at him, he saw his eyes. Above all, they were wary, as if Nero was a wild animal he wasn't sure whether to pet or run away from as fast as possible, but they were also something else he couldn't identify…Was it nervousness…mixed with hope?

Dante, as usual, was the first to breach the silence.

"Bro? That you?"

Nero didn't make any sudden movements, but he made a cocky reply, even though it was the last thing he felt like doing.

"What, you trying to be a gangster now Old Man?"

Dante immediately let out his breath, sheathing Yamato in the same breath. Nero couldn't read his face at all. Was it relief or disappointment?

He reached out his hand to receive his sword, but Dante hesitated.

The next thing he knew, Nero was on his butt on the ground, inches away from being skewered by a beer bottle neck.

"Oww! What the hell was that for Old Man?!"

Dante's eyes were completely serious. "What the fuck did you do Kid?"


	5. Welcome Back, Vergil

"…And then I woke up and you knocked me on my ass for no reason. That's about it."

Dante had been pacing the battered office none stop as Nero sat growing increasingly irritated on the couch. Lost in thoughts, he didn't seem to notice the boy had stopped speaking. When he had been ignored for a minute or so, Nero rose to his feet, moving to the devil hunter.

"Hey, Old Man, you okay?"

No sooner had he laid his hand on Dante's shoulder then, for the second time that day, he found himself on his ass staring up at his attacker.

"What the Hell?!"

Dante stared at him blankly for a few seconds, breathing heavily, before turning and walking out of the shop.

Nero just gaped.

* * *

Two hours later, Dante still hadn't returned. Nero wasn't really worried about him, if anything he'd be concerned for anyone that ran into Dante in whatever mood it was he was in. Still, he was getting a little bored waiting for him to return.

He had shot pool, he had fiddled aimlessly with the jukebox somehow only Dante could get to work, he had even swept up the mess in the bedroom and taken the empty pizza boxes out to the curb. _That_ had been an impressive sight.

Okay, maybe he was more than a little bored. But he didn't feel like he could just leave without talking to Dante and trying to figure out just what the fuck was happening to him. Not that he had any idea what he'd actually Say to Dante if and when he returned…it'd probably end up with him on the floor again.

Sighing, he pulled himself off of the beaten couch and began wandering around the room, taking in Dante's macabre collection of trophies decorating the walls.

Damn. If a museum had any idea what half these things were they'd be drooling to get their hands on them. Nero tried to identify the various demons. There was a Pride, a Lust, a Hell-Wrath…(was that safe to keep around?) and some sort of weird marionette thing he had no reference for identification. There were weapons too, and for some strange reason a purple electric guitar.

But it was the swords that interested him the most.

There were at least a dozen along the walls, and even more pinning the grotesque trophies to the walls, but a few in particular caught his attention. They seemed to radiate a magnetic pull, drawing him in, and it only took him a second to recognize it as Devil's power. He was suddenly filled with an inexplicable longing to hold them, to use them for the destructive purposes for which they were created…Then his eyes alighted on the largest sword, hung from a high rack in a place of honor on the back wall.

'_Take It.'_

He wanted to…it was so tempting…so powerful…he could finally show Dante he wasn't just a kid...that he was powerful too…

'_Just Take It!'_

He could…he would. He reached for the handle…

And in a split second realized the thoughts in his head were not his own.

But it was too late. His hand gripped the hilt of the sword, and instantly a wave of power, like an electric shock but a thousand times stronger than any man or demon could withstand surged through him.

No sooner had it washed over him than it was gone, and for a second Nero simply stood, trying to gather his wits.

Then the pain came.

The shock had been all over, numbing, tingling, but had not been anywhere near this. This pain was sharp and agonizing. An intense migraine that pulsed from every nerve he swore he must have in his brain, but yet…didn't seem to be a physical pain. He later was hard pressed to describe it, but felt he fell far short of doing so. The pain was spreading, and growing worse the longer he fought it, and them…it was gone.

Nero sank into a peaceful white oblivion.

* * *

Dante walked back up the street to Devil May Cry. It was late, far past midnight, but on summer nights the street rats and junior pickpockets were still about, perfecting their skills for future careers.

Outside his shop there was a giant pile of pizza boxes. It stood at least 6 feet high, and some prankster had scribbled 'The REAL tower of Pizza' against a piece of cardboard leaned against it. Dante lingered in front of it for a minute, delaying going inside and the inevitable confrontation.

He shouldn't have lashed out at the kid. Hell, sure he could have handled the situation better but after the day he'd had could you really expect him to?

'Yes. You've been through _far_ worse situations without losing your temper. The kid's right. You're getting old.'

Mentally giving himself a kick to shut himself up, he swung open the heavy wood door, already apologizing.

'Hey kid, I'm sorry, I really shouldn't of…What the fuck?!"

No sooner had he walked through the door than he was pinned against it, held in place by several of his own swords. Many of which, he noticed angrily, went through his new coat. He should start ordering them in bulk, honestly.

"Kid?"

"Oh don't worry, Dante. I'm not the least bit angry," Nero's smile seemed slightly more wicked than Dante remembered. "In fact, I'm very glad you left me alone to think. It gave me a few…Revelations."

Okay, now Dante was almost positive something was up. His eyes flutter across the room, searching for clues as to what had happened and how he could free himself and fix it. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary…the place seemed a bit tidier and some of his trophies were on the floor including…Sparda.

Three words formed in the Devil Hunter's mind. 'Oh, Shit.' And...

"Bro?"

Nero smiled again. Dante decided he didn't like that smile. Nero was too straightforward and brash to have such a conniving and treacherous look.

"Hello Brother."

Ner-Vergil sat at Dante's desk chair, back ramrod straight and perfectly poised. The fact that he was in a different body did little to disguise his personality now that the element of surprise had washed off.

Dante, remembering his admonitions to himself earlier, grinned and kept his cool.

"Verge! I didn't know Hell was a Day Spa. You look at least fifty years younger. Then again, you always were one to go for those prissy places."

"I wish I could say the years have been kind as well, but you seem to have let yourself go, Dante. So much you've even stopped shaving?"

Dante scowled. He liked the beard. Vergil noticed and only smiled, slightly less menacingly this time.

He wiped his fingers over Dante's desk, frowning at the layer of dust that came with them.

"And I see you still enjoy living in wretched squalor unbefitting a Sparda, Brother, although it appears you've got yourself a houseboy."

Dante's scowl deepened. "Don't-", be began, but before he could get another word out Vergil had leapt from the chair, leaving it rocking in his wake, storming over to his captive, seething.

"Don't _What,_ dear brother? Don't complain about how you replaced me? Don't put down your little _bitch_? Don't come back at all?

By this time Vergil was standing before Dante, nose within inches of his face, breathing hard, his pure radiating fury alone making him seem to tower over the pinned man.

He leaned in and hissed in his ear. "You'd like that brother, wouldn't you? If I just disappeared and left you alone with you and your boy toy? It would be so much more convenient if I just fell back off the face of the Earth again, wouldn't it?"

This was the opportunity Dante had been waiting for. Pulling free of from his bonds, he tackled his captor, knocking him to the floor and pinning him under his weight. Vergil's grin didn't falter, and he felt even more uneasy. Dante had never even seen that twisted look on Vergil's face, he had always been so dignified and somber, his rare smile

"What the fuck happened to you, Bro?"

The unpleasant grin transformed into a leer. "What's wrong? You don't like it? It's partly your fault, _Dante._"

Recoiling slightly, Dante sat up. "Sorry Verge, you didn't deserve this, but I gotta do this for the kid."

He raised his hand to cuff the boy beneath him, but again he was stopped.

"Uh, Dante?"

"Kid?"

"Yeah. …I get the feeling I don't want to ask why you're on top of me."

**

* * *

**

You know, it's weird…The more I beat up Nero, the more I like him…must be empathy, or sympathy or something…

**Poor Vergil, a few decades in hell isn't good for the psyche … I'm probably just rusty with writing DMC…I last updated in what…April? I'm so Sorry about that, I really am.**

**Reviews? Next chapter with Full on Vergil and Possibly (depending on reviews) Smut!**


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